Much flax thou spinnest when I am not by to watch! It is a pity thou wert not a fine lady born!" Cherry certainly was decidedly of this opinion herself, albeit she would not have dared to say as much.

She liked soft raiment, bright colours, dainty ways, and pretty speeches.

Looking down from her window upon the passers by, it was her favourite pastime to fancy herself one of the hooped and powdered and gorgeously-apparelled ladies, with their monstrous farthingales, their stiff petticoats, their fans, their patches, and their saucy, coquettish ways to the gentlemen in their train.

All this bedizenment, which had by no means died out with the death of a Queen who had loved and encouraged it, was dear to the eyes of the little maiden, whose own sad-coloured garments and severe simplicity of attire was a constant source of annoyance to her.

Not that she wished to ape the fine dames in her small person.